Trust Me, I'm a Demon
by Tried Hemlock Once
Summary: Starting Season 1: Jessica Moore dies, leaving her brother to pick up the pieces. Alan gets much more than he expected when he goes searching for his sister's killer. Rating T for language, may or may not change as story progresses. Future: Male!OC/Gabriel friendship


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and I am not making money from this story. (I _so_ wish!)

::::::Trust Me, I'm a Demon::::::

My name is Narrator, as it is in all of the stories that I tell. I always like to inform my audience of who exactly is speaking through text to them so let me allow for some familiarization. I write for the joy of turning a phrase and also for the personal necessity of creating something that I would like to read. I also like the creativity and innovation involved therein. My favorite color is red...and that should be about it. Oh, but hold! If you are to leave feedback (and I really hope you will), make it complimentary (if you want) _and_ critical (yes, please). Please and shanks.

I suppose I should get on with the story, yeah? But I think I'll take my dandy time, keeping in mind that you can always skip ahead. In the future, these before-the-chapter notes will mostly be your dearest Narrator jabbering on, so don't feel any obligation to mind them.

Chapter One—My Name Is Rhett

There was once a time where Alan Moore could smile without restraint, where he worried only about the little things, and where he loved and did not have regrets. That time was in the past. Ever since Alan's sister had died—no, had been murdered—he had planned to hunt for the monster responsible. The problem with finding his sister's killer was identifying his sister's killer. He had no clue how to go about finding the bastard, let alone have the mind and skill to succeed in killing him. Keeping his lack of skill for these endeavors close at hand, Alan set forth to question people close to his sister. This venture was relatively simple considering the turnout at the funeral.

Besides sadness, Alan felt anger in his sister's death. He asked God desperately, 'Why her? Why Jess?' God never answered. When sympathies were given and taken (with little gratitude on Alan's part), Alan would ask the funeral-goers about the strange circumstances surrounding Jessica's death. Alan had hoped, by doing this, that he could gain some perspective on motives for killing Jessica. What Alan discovered was much more revealing. Jessica was not hated enough to murder (in truth, a lot of people loved Jessica), but, according to the man with black sclera that was currently suspending Alan effortlessly with hand to neck, his sister was a pawn to yield movement on part of the bishop in a very important game.

Then, in that moment, Alan could only let a few words from his trembling lips—"I don't und-"—before he was suffocating on something that wasn't air. His thoughts and being were forced back and Alan was trapped. A voice called out to him in the haze and, though consumed with fear, Alan managed to listen. "No worries human, you will have your body back soon enough. I just need to run some, ah, errands first."

"What are you?" Alan whispered to the haze and to the voice that belonged to it.

"Your worst nightmare. Now, we best get going. Wouldn't want to be late."

It turned out that 'errands' meant using Alan's body to accomplish work in the material world for as long as the human vessel lasted. The demon, Alan soon learned, was rather fond of using Alan for a vessel, something about aestheticism and opportunity.

During the time of the demon's occupancy, Alan's hands were perpetually stained with blood. He had been there when the demon slaughtered entire families as they traveled across the States and had felt their bodies turn limp in his hands, felt their hearts stop beating, and heard their screams like cacophonous symphonies until their screams died into nothing but last breaths. After awhile, Alan became numb and came to realize that the longer that this demon occupied his form, the more passive and sociopathic he became. The demon was dehumanizing him. 'Was that his intention?' Alan wondered. And, although the demon could hear all of this host's thoughts and feel what he was feeling and known was he knew, he rarely commented. And, as Alan lost some human sentiment, the demon gained some in equal proportion. Their beings grew together and the two talked more, but there was no hostility. Unintentionally, their souls intertwined.

Alan felt guilty for succumbing to the demon that has assumed his form. This demon might have had something to do with his sister's death and, for al intents and purposes, Alan just stopped caring. But every once in a great while Alan would ask his demon about the events surrounding Jessica's death. After attempting to ask his questions in an indirect way, the demon waited a pace before telling Alan point blank that he was "better off getting to the damned point."

"Do you know who killed my sister?"

There was a pregnant pause before the demon responded. "Yes."

If Alan had control of his body, his brow would have furrowed and his lips, turned down in a frown. But he wasn't, so he could not. "Did you do it? Did you help? Why in the _Hell_ were you possessing my sister's friend?"

Very nonchalantly, the demon responded: "No. I don't know, not really. And I was ordered to; I served as an informant." The demon could tell that Alan was fuming, but the human withheld his thoughts from the demon. "Look, Alan..." the demon started. "You know what I am, a demon, and what demons do best is wreck everything human."

Alan took a moment for reflection. "You're right. I shouldn't expect much from a hellion. But, before we put aside this heart-to-black hole forever, I'm going to ask you one more time...how were you involved with Jessica's death?"

The demon, more balanced mentally and emotionally after spending so much time with his human, sighed, frustrated with himself that he had dug himself his own (second) grave (as if the first time wasn't enough) with this Jessica Moore business. He massaged Alan's temples, took a breath and spoke. "I played matchmaker." The demon almost wanted to laugh at his host's confusion, but he could not, under some perception of moral obligation. (Imagine that! A morally-bound hellion!) "Between your sister and, until late, boyfriend Samuel Winchester," he continued, "Sam is, ah, a very _special_ person. Your sister was crucial in the sculpture of Sam's future."

"Okay," Alan mumbled, his voice monotonous, "Thank you for telling me, Rhett. I'm going to rest now. If you're going to kill anyone tonight, make sure they don't scream."

"Of course, Alan. Rest well." With that, both Rhett and his host settled in for the night, Rhett upon the bed, _Brothers Karamazov_ in Alan's hands. The demon slept that night.

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The Winchester brothers were getting ready to sleep after returning from a hunt. Sam was remembering something. "Dean, something's been bothering me," he started.

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at his brother from across the motel room. "Okay," he said, changing his expression into more sarcastically serious, "I'll just get a couple mugs of chamomile and we can...talk it out."

"Dean, I'm serious. It's about Jessica."

"Sam..." Dean trailed, really not wanting to get into a mess involving no doubt emotional Sam. Then he saw his little brother's worried eyes and caved in defeat. "Alright, well," Dean allowed, his hand moving to massage his neck, "Go ahead, then."

His brother just looked at him for a long moment. "Jessica's brother has been missing since she died. I don't know if his disappearance has anything to do with Yellow Eyes but...I'd like to find Alan in any case, to make sure that he's alright." Sam looked to the floor, then back as Dean, waiting patiently for a response.

"Yeah, alright."

"Alright," Sam repeated, as if finalizing a motion.

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By the next week, Sam had made some progress in his search for Alan Moore. The man in question had been cited on numerous occasion across the country via store and traffic cameras, as well as in a few local newspapers. Strange things happened in his wake. Sometimes people died and sometimes he only left power outages and sulfur in his path. Sam knew one thing for certain: Alan was possessed by a demon, and that worried him.

Being the smart kid that he was, Sam was able to predict where Alan would be next and then convinced his brother to drive him there, lying and saying it was "just a demon run." Dean followed his brother into the building after exchanging few heated words and looks.

Allow your Narrator to set the scene. Nice sort of hotel, free of mold and dirt on the floors—a nice hotel. The wallpaper was floral and not quite so easy on the eyes, but there was a small balcony that looked out onto the parking lot. Upon the balcony, Alan stood, leaning precariously against and slightly over the railing. That was also where Alan almost fell when his door was slammed open by two men, one of which seemed vaguely familiar (from where he hung, upside down).

'Oh...' Alan thought as he came to a realization. "Sam! Help me out here, will you?" he shouted from where he was half-dangling (okay...completely dangling). Sam rushed over and sheathed his weapon, all the while being watched over by his brother, who still stood by the door, looking on. "Thanks for that. Now, mind telling me why in the _Hell_ you knocked my door in?" Alan was struggling to stand upright and he clutched at the object closest to him, which happened to be, well, air. Luckily, Sam caught him and steadied him before he hit the ground. All the while Dean was thinking, 'He doesn't seem like a demon...and Sam isn't treating him like a demon.'

"You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, big guy," Alan assured Sam, patting his arm. "Now, tell me...why you busted in my door."

Sam finally released the man's arm and took a step back. Leaden feet padded across the room. Dean now stood beside his brother. "You know this guy? I thought you said this was a demon run."

"It is. Alan's possessed by a demon. I know it." Sam looked intently at his brother and away from Alan, who now stood there, in the middle of the room, rigid. "Wait, Alan? As in the guy we've been looking for?" Sam only nodded mutely in response.

"You must be the brother. Dean, right?" Alan found his lips moving, but not under his own willpower. Rhett was back in control. "I've heard a lot about you..." Alan's voice had raised in pitch and his tone had changed into one that was mocking. It was a relatively subtle change, but a change the younger Winchester noticed nonetheless.

"Alan?" Sam asked, cocking his head a bit to the side, eyes seeking.

"Oh, Alan's still here, but he's taking the backseat. I'm in control now." Alan's eyes flickered black and his lips formed into a smirk. Ever observant, Rhett caught the elder brother rustling around in his pockets for something, a weapon no doubt. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Dean-O. Something..." Rhett made a careless motion with Alan's hand at Dean, sending him flying against the wall, "..._bad_ might happen." Alan protested inside of Rhett, pleading with him not to hurt Sam. Much to Rhett's surprise, Sam advanced on the demon and struck Alan in the jaw, hoping to unbalance the demon and take him down so that they could expel the demon from his friend's form. Alan's head reeled to the side and a sickening crack rang out in the tense silence. "Now Sammy...Alan's not going to like that when he wakes up." Alan's hands clamped around Sam's wrists and forced the man to walk backwards until his back hit the wall. "Let me speak, Sam, and this will go much more smoothly. Alright?" After a few long moments of the man just looking at him, searching Alan's face and his patient eyes, he gave a reluctant nod. The demon immediately released Sam and glanced over at the brother pinned to the wall, struggling futilely. "Are you gonna behave too, big brother?" Said man sent him a glare and bared his teeth. "Is that a 'no'?"

"Just let me down from here!" Dean shouted at the demon, and was promptly dropped from the wall, only to land in heap on the floor.

"_Rude._ Right. Where were we?"

"You were just about to leave Alan's body," Sam said with clenched jaw.

"Now, that's an idea! Problem is that I've come to care about my host. He's become important to me. If I was, say, forced to leave by your methods, I'm afraid part of Alan's soul would be forced back to Hell with me." Alan's hands were fumbling for a cigarette, as Rhett continued with an air of nonchalance. "Part of his soul would go, then his sanity, and then his capacity for good. We wouldn't want _that_, would we?" He paused for dramatic effect. (Demons are the worst drama queens.) "Not to mention that I would eventually escape Hell again and you two would be the first ones I would come for, and with vengeance."

"So what will you have us do? We're hunters. We can't let you go on killing innocent people." Sam was angry—as made evident by his dark eyes and creased brow, lips pursed and jaw tensed—but he tried to reason with the demon.

"The people I kill are hardly innocent, Sam. Do your homework. The humans I torture and kill are worse than I ever was. But," on a brighter note, "if you want, I'm sure we can reach some sort of compromise." Alan's hands were sweeping over his pockets again, searching for his lighter.

"Work with us," Sam said. Dean was nearly twitching in his efforts to remain silent, but his efforts went down the drain with that line. "Sam, what the hell? Working with a demon? How much lower could we sink? I thought you were the smart one!" Your humble Narrator thinks that they could sink much, much lower indeed.

"No, no, let him talk, Fido. I'm intrigued." At this point, Rhett had given up searching for a lighter and resolved to simply tuck the cig behind Alan's ear for later. Rhett had Alan's hands clasped behind his back and was leaning forward slightly towards Sam in interest.

"We need information on demons, one in particular. I would be willing to offer you a favor in return for you help." And this is where, your dear Narrator says, Sam begins to be more cautious with his promises and his offerings of favors.

"Oh? A favor from Sam Winchester? Well, isn't this exciting? I think _so_." Alan's voice had risen an octave in Rhett's excitement and the brothers both cringed a bit at the sound. "It's a _deal_, Sammy. Seal it will a kiss?" Before Sam could stop him, Rhett surged towards Sam, caught him by the back of his neck and pulled him forward. It wasn't really a kiss, don't worry, more of a forceful closure. Rhett pulled back and laughed at Sam's struggle, then let go of his neck in turn, stepping away soon after. Rhett licked Alan's lips. "Delicious." He grinned some more at the obvious disgust on Sam's face. "So...what would you like to know, _Sammy_?" Rhett asked, still wearing a smile.

"Do you know of a yellow-eyed demon?" Sam asked, eyes focused on the demon. He watched as the smile on Alan's face faded and the man's expression turned dark.

"Yes. I know of Yellow Eyes. He's called Azazel and he's quite the bastard of a boss."

Sam's bitchface took over and Dean's expression turned even more sour (if that was possible). "You work for him?" Sam all but growled.

"Worked. Past tense. Azazel was my ticket out of Hell. I did my job and now I'm free to roam mankind's earthly meadows..." Rhett ended semi-poetically. Alan was dormant and vaguely wondering if this suffocating tension between Sam and Rhett would break soon. He hoped so. "I didn't kill your girl if that's what you're thinking. That was _all_ Azazel."

Sam took a moment and paused there. Dean took Sam's silence as a chance to speak up. "Oh? I get to talk now? About damned time. So, what about Azazel? How can we find him?"

Rhett rested Alan's eyes on Dean, who had taken an aggressive stance and was glowering with narrowed eyes at Rhett. Rhett spoke in a careful tone: "Well, you could always try summoning him, but that's never a good idea with bossman types. The best chance you've got is to be prepared and wait for him to come to you. There's got to be some good reason that he came after...you know, Sam twice. I imagine Azazel has something big planned for your little brother." The brothers started speaking quickly in hushed voices back and forth amongst themselves and were so occupied in doing so that they didn't notice Rhett edging along to gather his and Alan's things. Once he had their duffel bag packed, he interrupted the brothers and said unto them: "If you have any other questions, please hesitate to call me. I've left Alan's number in your pocket, Sam. And if you do happen to run into Azazel, don't mention my name." Rhett, along with Alan, vanished a moment later.

"Awesome."

"Yeah, Dean. Just awesome."

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A/N: Thanks for reading and please leave feedback! This felt long...did it feel long enough to you?

P.S. Narrator says: I love you but, seriously, leave me alone. It sucks to be omniscient. I get headaches all of the time.


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